


That Tone

by kmc995



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Humor, Slight swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmc995/pseuds/kmc995
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever Annabeth uses that tone it either means Percy's in trouble, or is about to be. It's hard to argue with a daughter of Athena.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Tone

**Author's Note:**

> Random Percabeth moment. Supposed to take place before The Lost Hero, but I guess this could really be placed at any point after they started dating...

“Percy!”

I froze in my path. Usually, when Annabeth uses that _tone_ with me, it means I did something wrong. And now that I’m her boyfriend, it always made me extra nervous; desperate to find an excuse to whatever it was that I did. 

I saw Annabeth’s dagger before I saw her. She held it in her hand as she marched towards me, her blonde curls pulled back messily into a high ponytail. I was tempted to turn and run towards the lake and risk the chance of her stabbing me in the back (figures she would be the one person who knew where my Achilles Heel is). Or maybe I could just whistle and hope that Blackjack came fast enough for me to hightail (excuse the pun) it out of there…She came closer to where I was standing and I unfroze. I didn’t run, just barely keeping myself in check. Instead, I slid an easy smile onto my face and greeted my not-so-friendly-looking demigod girlfriend.

“Hey there…Annabeth,” I said, wincing at the pitiful sound of my own voice. 

We were facing each other, a good two feet or so in between us. She looked ticked off, but not so pissed as I needed to worry. I could handle this. I think. That dagger, however, isn’t looking anything less than bloodthirsty. It’s funny how Annabeth can reduce a child of the Big Three from a fearless (okay, _mostly_ fearless) hero, into a cowering, unsure boy the moment sheuses that _tone_. The weapon definitely helps too.

 “Hey there Annabeth?” She repeated, her eyebrow rising as the hard look on her face showed that she wasn’t fooled at all by my attempt at soothing her.

“Uhh…” I put on my best confused face – which really wasn’t that hard, “yeah?”

She rolled her eyes with a hard sigh and shoved her weapon-clad fist in my face. Flinching, it took me a moment to realize that she wasn’t going to cut my face off. I opened my left eye slowly, cautiously. Her dagger was a few inches from my nose, held so the flat of the sharp blade almost took up my entire line of vision.

“What’s this, Percy?” She snapped, that _tone_ back full force.

“Your dagger.” Gods I hoped that wasn’t the wrong answer.

“Wrong!” She gritted through clenched teeth, “it’s my dagger—“

“That’s what I—“

“WITH,” she raised her voice, talking over me effortlessly, “a _scratch_!”

I brought my hand up and guided her arm – and the potentially harmful object— away from me. “And?” I didn’t know what she wanted from me. This I _know_ wasn’t my fault; why would I be messing with her stuff, let alone her weapon?

“ _And_ ,” she repeated, “it’s from _your_ sword.”

“What do you mean ‘my sword’?”

“You scratched up my blade during practice.” I looked at her incredulously as she brought the blade closer and studied its marred surface.

“How is that my fault? It was _practice_!” Her eyes shot towards my face and her eyebrows furrowed dangerously. Seeing her angry eyes directed towards me was even worse than the _tone_.

“Well,” I lessened my _are-you-serious_ tone of voice, “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know why she was so worked up about this. Maybe she just likes to see me squirm. Or maybe likes the feeling of authority she gets when she leaves me basically kneeling down at her feet. I mean that in the most loving way, of course. 

“You’re such a Seaweed Brain.” A small smile started to spread across her previously mad exterior. 

“What?”

Annabeth suddenly laughed, an amused expression completely erasing any traces of anger that she might have held. “Yes, Percy — it _is_ entirely your fault that my blade is scratched, but _c’mon_!”

“You’re kidding me right?” I emotionlessly asked, realizing that Annabeth had just pretended to be angry and tricked me into apologizing. For nothing. Which means she has discovered my weakness; the one thing that can make me do anything; her. She’s going to use this against me for the rest of my life.

She smiled even larger and pressed her body against mine, throwing her arms around my waist. “Oh, don’t be a sore loser Percy.”

My arms immediately closed around her and pulled her even closer. “I am _so_ not a sore loser.” I mumbled into her shoulder. Everyone in camp had been cracking jokes about how I was like a love-struck puppy, willing to follow any command Annabeth threw at me. I had always found them annoying, but never paid much attention to them until now. Does this make them all true? Not that I mind following Annabeth around, but does the fact that Annabeth can now basically control me make me a love-struck puppy? 

I wracked my brain for a possible answer to that question. None presented itself. What I _do_ know is Grover cannot find out about this, or else he’d blab to Juniper, and everyone knows how gossip spreads like a wildfire between the tree nymphs. (I mean, can you blame ‘em? All they do is sit around all day, still as a tree. That’s got to be boring).

“So,” I began, “you’re not mad? At all?”

“Oh, no,” I breathed a sigh of relief, “I’m definitely mad.” Looks like I spoke too soon. “You’re going to polish my blade until it shines. I want to see that pretty face of yours reflected in it when it’s done.”

I pulled back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you serious?”

“Yup.”

“What happened to ‘c’mon, blah, I was just kidding, blah,’” I said in a horrible imitation of her voice.

“I never said I was kidding.”

“But _why_ ,” I whined, stretching out the last syllable.

“Because I happen to know that your cabin is a complete pigsty, and, since I’m judging, I might throw you an extra point or two.” 

I glared at her. “You seriously playing this game?”

“Yup.” She seemed smug.

“And if I don’t?”

“Do you really want to take that chance?”

I looked at my options. Either I do, and Annabeth will hold this over me and I will officially be labeled as the love-struck puppy, or I don’t and Annabeth will probably make my cabin lose (which entails me doing all the dishes in camp) and some other unknown punishment. What to do? Athena children might seem harmless, but being the spawn of the goddess of battle strategy certainly can be scary, especially when it’s one who has it out for you.   

“Ugh!” I threw my arms up. “I give up! Whatever, I’ll clean the damn blade.” I glowered unattractively in her direction.

She lightened up, which I knew was completely fake because she _knew_ I would play right into her trap. “I’m glad you decided to cooperate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled. And just to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off her face, I kissed her. I heard her breath catch and smiled. She may know my weakness, but that doesn’t mean I’m _completely_ powerless against her.

She knew this too, and quickly broke the embrace. “See ya’ later, Seaweed Brain,” she called as she walked away. 

I know I still got screwed in this deal, but I felt that I had won something that day. 


End file.
